


why did love put a gun in my hand? (in my bed, in my head, in my hand)

by blackrose1002, BlackVultures



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bathing/Washing, Blood and Injury, First Kiss, Future Fic, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Not Really Character Death, Pining, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 12:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/pseuds/blackrose1002, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVultures/pseuds/BlackVultures
Summary: “This reminds me of our last trip to Vegas, and not in the fun way,” Jack said, and he saw the comprehension in Mac’s eyes. They were locked in a room they couldn’t escape from, only instead of being together in a bunker, there was at least a foot of concrete and a bulletproof window between them. They also had no food or water, and while the temperature was comfortable for the moment, that didn’t mean it would stay that way. “And just like Vegas, somebody’s watching us.” Jack pointed, and sure enough, up in the corner closest to the doors in each room was a camera with a blinking red recording light. “Hey, asshole! How about you come down here and say hi to your guests? This doesn’t seem very hospitable.”He heard Mac sigh, and knew without looking he was rolling his eyes. “Glad we got to discuss our strategy this time,” he muttered, but without real heat behind it.(Also known as: Jack and Mac get kidnapped by a homophobe who thinks they're a couple and forces them to make an impossible choice... and then they become a couple.)





	why did love put a gun in my hand? (in my bed, in my head, in my hand)

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii! That's right, [blackrose1002](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose1002/pseuds/blackrose1002) and I are back with another angsty, painful, smutty fic for y'all to enjoy and/or yell at us about! **As a warning/disclaimer: no characters ACTUALLY die in this fic, but there is discussion of suicide and the commission of an action that LOOKS like suicide to another character.** If anything like that might trigger you, I would suggest passing on this one. Also full disclosure, I messed with the lethality and physics of shooting yourself with a blank because otherwise this idea never would've worked, but lots of actors have actually died this way - including most famously Brandon Lee on the set of _The Crow_. I put this one together so any mistakes are my own, and we hope you enjoy this one! Please let us know what you think!
> 
> (Title is from "Gun In My Hand" by Dorothy.)

All Jack had wanted was a nice dinner after a mission that had actually gone right for a change, and of course he couldn’t even get _that_ without the universe biting him in the ass—but that was getting ahead of the story.

The story started with Jack trying to convince himself that there was nothing wrong with hanging out with his best friend after a job well done, even if he was secretly pining after Mac while he watched him laugh into his beer with a big smile and those pretty blue eyes. They had a secluded booth in the back corner of the restaurant, and their waiter had kind of been giving them the side-eye since they got there; Jack wasn’t sure if he thought they were together and didn’t like it, or maybe he was jealous, whatever.

The food came, and the first couple of bites were delicious… until Jack felt the familiar, fuzzy grip of a sedative climbing up his throat. He and Mac locked eyes and tried to stand, but it was no use—the alcohol they’d drunk while waiting for their meals made the drug work faster, and soon they were both unconscious.

~***~

When Jack woke up, he found himself locked in a little concrete room that couldn’t have been more than six-by-six in diameter, and the ceiling was so low the top of his head almost brushed it when he stood up shakily. There were three things in the room with him: a chair, a bucket, and a window… and on the other side of the window was Mac, still out cold on the floor.

Jack rushed to the window, slightly dizzy from the drug and how fast he moved. His head was killing him, but that didn’t stop him from banging on the bulletproof glass and calling out for Mac. He wasn’t sure if Mac could hear him through the glass or not, but he started stirring a moment later. Jack could tell exactly when Mac remembered what happened, his expression going from confused to alert in a second as he sat up and glanced around.

His eyes went huge when he saw Jack on the other side of the window. “Jack? Are you okay?” he asked, scrambling to his feet.

They _could_ hear each other, Jack realized, and wondered how—probably some kind of microphones hidden somewhere. It was just like Mac to be worried about someone else when he could barely stand, but Jack answered him anyway. “I’m fine, I think. Little woozy from whatever that creepy waiter dosed us with.” The more Jack looked around both rooms, the more he didn’t like the situation. The doors to his and Mac’s room appeared to be solid steel with no knob or hinges on the inside, and while there was a small vent for air near the ceiling, it was only a few inches tall and was useless for escape. “What the hell was his problem, anyway?”

“I have no idea,” Mac replied, looking around just like Jack was, trying to find a way out. “I didn’t recognize him?” There was a question there, and Jack shook his head—he’d never seen the guy before in his life. “What’s the deal with the rooms?” Jack knew Mac well enough to know it was a rhetorical question, his way of thinking out loud to try and solve the puzzle presented to him. “Why put us in separate rooms, but make it possible for us to talk?”

“This reminds me of our last trip to Vegas, and not in the fun way,” Jack said, and he saw the comprehension in Mac’s eyes. They were locked in a room they couldn’t escape from, only instead of being together in a bunker, there was at least a foot of concrete and a bulletproof window between them. They also had no food or water, and while the temperature was comfortable for the moment, that didn’t mean it would stay that way. “And just like Vegas, somebody’s watching us.” Jack pointed, and up in the corner closest to the doors in each room was a camera with a blinking red recording light. “Hey, asshole! How about you come down here and say hi to your guests? This doesn’t seem very hospitable.”

He heard Mac sigh, and knew without looking he was rolling his eyes. “Glad we got to discuss our strategy this time,” he muttered, but without real heat behind it.

“Come on man, show your face! Then I can punch it and shove your head where the sun don’t shine!” Jack exclaimed.

He proceeded to keep up the stream of creative threats for a solid five minutes. Just as he was about to give up, there was a loud noise from somewhere behind his door. An almost invisible panel near the top of Jack’s door slid open—not much bigger than a mail slot and remote controlled—and he wasn’t looking, but he heard the same thing happen to Mac’s. Something small and cylindrical got thrown through both slots, and Jack had just enough time to swear and cover his ears before the stun grenade went off.

It took a few agonizing minutes for his vision to return and his head to stop ringing, but once that happened, Jack noticed two things: a note attached to the stun grenade canister, and a small revolver sitting on the floor, a snub-nosed .22 with blued metal and fake pearl grips.

“You alright?” Jack asked Mac, maybe a little too loudly, as he unfolded the note.

Inside it were neatly typed lines of words that were nothing more than hate-filled rhetoric disguised as religion—a man shouldn’t lie with another man, sodomy is bad, the typical bullshit. The love note ended with a handwritten message: _Die for your sin if you want him to live_.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Mac called back, and when Jack looked at him, he saw that he held a similar note. There was a sour look on his face as he gestured at the piece of paper in his hand. “I’m guessing they say the same thing?” When Jack walked up to the window, nodding absently, he saw that there was an identical revolver in Mac’s room as well. “You’re right, this is starting to look like Vegas.”

“Alright, you psycho, this is insane.” Jack sighed, looking into the camera even though his heart was racing painfully in his chest. If him dying was the only way to save Mac… but that didn’t make any sense, unless the waiter actually thought they were a couple and had such a problem with it that he decided to kidnap them and subject them to this. And that would be _really_ bad, because if they were dealing with someone who was smart enough to put all of this together that also happened to be a nutjob, there might not be a good way out.

“‘Psycho’ might not be far off the mark,” Mac muttered, and then his eyes caught on something behind Jack and widened. “Oh, God.” Jack turned around for the first time and saw a massive brownish-red stain on the concrete, one that dripped down to the floor and spattered everywhere. It had clearly been pressure-washed and bleached, but there was so much blood (_and brain matter, and bone_, Jack’s mind supplied helpfully) that it was still vivid. “We aren’t the first ones he’s done this to, Jack.”

Jack swallowed hard, suddenly feeling way worse about their situation. The odds were that the creep was choosing his victims at random, so that meant whoever was here before them didn’t have the kind of training he and Mac did… but it didn’t seem like that training would be coming in handy. “Mac, come on,” he said quietly. “One of us has to kill himself so the other can live? That’s crazy, man. If we don’t do it, then what?”

“I’m guessing we die of dehydration, since that kills before starvation does,” Mac said grimly, running a hand through his hair to get it out of his face.

Jack watched the gesture with his heart in his throat, because goddammit, if the only way for Mac to live was for Jack to die… but not yet, there might still be a way out, Mac just needed to think of it. “Please tell me you’ve got a brilliant plan, hoss. There has to be something we can do besides… that.”

Mac took in a shuddering breath. “I… I don’t know, Jack.” He shrugged helplessly. “There’s nothing here except for the chair, the bucket, and the gun, and what am I supposed to do with that?” His eyes dropped to the gun on the floor, and he bent to pick it up.

The sight of a gun in Mac’s hands was alarming and Jack took a step closer to the window. “Mac, no. You listen to me, there is no way in hell you’re doing that.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, before saying in a tired, slow voice, “If anybody’s gonna do that, it’s going to be me. I’m not letting you die for me.”

“And why should I let _you_ die for _me_?” Mac asked, stepping closer, his face twisting with anger, the gun hanging down along the side of his leg. “Don’t even try to tell me about how you’re supposed to protect me and all that. We’re partners, Jack. Equals. You don’t get to just decide it’s gonna be you, it’s not like your life is worth less than mine.”

Jack hung his head, leaning his shoulder against the window and staring at nothing. “But that’s the thing, Mac, you’re… brilliant, and kind, and so good at what you do. You’ve helped so many people, even when it wasn’t your job. And me, well, there’s a saying about how old spooks don’t retire, they just die. I haven’t done a damn thing in my whole life that would be worth you giving up yours for mine.” He was acutely aware that his words, while truth, were erring out of the realm of friendship, but he was too tired and pissed off to give a damn. “Wouldn’t be surprised if I had this coming and it wasn’t all some big cosmic joke. Not like it’s the first time I’ve thought about putting a gun to my own head.”

“What?” Mac whispered, his voice shaking. “You… Jack, _what_?” When Jack glanced at him, Mac’s eyes were wide and sad. “When did you…?”

“It was way before I met you,” Jack said with a sigh, his gaze staying on Mac’s face, trying to drink in every detail in case… in case of _what_, Jack wasn’t exactly sure, but he did it anyway. “I was waking up screaming, thought motorcycles backfiring were gunshots, the whole nine yards. And I… I felt like I just couldn’t keep going. Then the job offer came from the CIA—you don’t find them, they find you—and my brain didn’t have to turn in circles anymore.” Jack hadn’t thought about that part of his life in years, and found it ironic that now was when he decided to bring it up. “Fact of the matter is, you’ve got so much more to do, Mac. And I… I wouldn’t want to live in a world without you in it anyway.”

“No.” Mac’s voice was quiet, yet hard. “Jack, stop making it sound like… like this is something you deserve. Like you’re somehow not worthy of being alive.” His eyes filled with tears, which was unsettling because Mac didn’t cry, almost never. “And you know what? You’re being selfish.” His hands were below the level of the glass, but from the motion they were making Jack could picture them twisting in on themselves. “What about me? Have you even thought about what it would be like for _me_ to live in a world without _you_?”

Jack stared at Mac openly in surprise. He knew Mac cared about him, loved him like a brother… but there was a strange tone to his voice, one that didn’t equate to either of those things. “I… no,” Jack admitted, because he’d never been able to entertain the idea that he meant as much to Mac as Mac did to him. That just couldn’t be true, but if they were laying all their cards on the table… “Mac, if you… if you knew how I really feel about you, you wouldn’t—you’d know exactly how selfish I actually am.”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you enlighten me?” A tear rolled down Mac’s cheek, and he took a deep breath, probably to keep his voice steady. “But before you do, you wanna know what it would be like to live without you? It would fucking _destroy_ me. I can’t do that, Jack.”

“I can’t live without you either… because I’m in love with you,” Jack said, the words trembling nearly as badly as his body. He forced himself to watch the open shock that crossed Mac’s face but looked away before it could turn to disgust. He bent over and picked up the revolver, gripping it tightly; he didn’t bring it up to his head, not yet, but its weight was strangely comforting.

“No, you put that down right now,” Mac told him, panicked and sounding like he was crying even harder—Jack couldn’t be sure, because he couldn’t make himself look. “Jack, you hear me? Put it down. You don’t get to say you love me and then do _that_, Jack, _please_.” His voice cracked and Jack squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop his own tears, but it was hopeless. “Jack, I love you too. I have for years. Please, look at me.”

Jack looked, and all the breath left his body, because Mac was holding his own revolver a few inches from the right side of his head. He was still reeling from Mac’s confession, but the next thing Jack knew he was pressed against the glass separating them, his own revolver dropped to the floor and forgotten. “Mac, no, please don’t, I’m begging you—”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Mac said, and then he pulled the trigger.

~***~

The second the gunshot cracked the lights went out, plunging both rooms into total darkness. Not that Jack cared, because his knees gave out and he dropped to the floor, loud, uncontrollable sobs wracking his body. “No, no, no,” he repeated frantically, his hands clenched into tight fists as he shook on the floor, an ache that was impossible to describe spreading through him like poison.

Mac was gone, Mac was _dead_ because he sacrificed himself for _Jack_… and Jack actually considered finding his revolver and following Mac, because he meant what he’d said, he didn’t want to live in a world without him. Before he could, though, he heard the sound of the doors to both rooms opening, and Jack had to go to him. He _had_ to.

Jack didn’t think his legs would hold him so he groped against the wall, scrabbling at rough concrete until he stood. He could barely breathe he was crying so hard and it was too dark to see anything, but he remembered which way the door was and headed in that direction. He stumbled through it into a narrow corridor that was also concrete, and red emergency lights were flashing now by some pipes near the ceiling. Less than two feet away was the door to Mac’s room and Jack fell through it, unable to hold himself up anymore.

He crawled toward the middle of the room and whimpered when his hand bumped into Mac’s denim-clad thigh. It was still warm, but not for long, and that thought just made Jack cry harder. He didn’t dare to touch Mac’s head, he couldn’t, so he just curled up near his body, burying his face in Mac’s chest as he continued to sob, not caring about anything. It didn’t matter, none of it mattered without Mac—everything lost meaning the second Mac pulled that trigger, and Jack didn’t want to deal with it anymore. He thought briefly of Riley, but knew she’d be fine—she had Bozer, Matty, even Elwood, she didn’t need him.

Jack pressed himself even closer to Mac’s body, fingers digging into the material of his button-down shirt, damp with sweat and blood. He’d stay here as long as he could stand it, and then… and then he wouldn’t be here anymore. But a moment later, when Jack forced himself to stifle a sob to gasp for air that he heard something that… that sounded like a beating heart, right under his head.

Jack froze and heard it again: a heartbeat.

Did Mac shoot himself and… and it didn’t kill him? Or did it kill his brain but not his body? Before any more horrific scenarios can unwind in Jack’s mind, Mac groaned quietly, a pained sound, and his hand came up to squeeze Jack’s arm where it rested across his belly.

“Listen to me,” Mac whispered, and his words were slow, like he had to think about each one before he could say it. “I know you’re freaked out, Jack… but you have to keep acting like I’m dead, okay?”

Jack had no fucking clue what was going on and he couldn’t stop shaking, tears still streaming down his cheeks. “Mac?” he choked out, another sob tearing past his lips, and then he was pawing at Mac’s neck, fingers searching… until they found it. A pulse. And Jack broke down even more, pressing his face into Mac’s chest—which was a good thing, part of his brain noted, since he was supposed to act like Mac was dead. He wasn’t acting, though, he just couldn’t stop _crying_.

“I made a blank, Jack,” Mac said lowly, and his hand moved to wrap around Jack’s against his neck, thumb stroking across the back of it. “I hid what I was doing from the camera while we were talking through the window. It… hurts a lot, and I’m not sure I want to know how bad it is.” A weak chuckle. “See if you can jam the door so it can’t be shut again… my revolver should fire, the rest of the bullets are still good.”

It hit Jack then that Mac was really alive—hurt badly, but alive. He tried taking a few deep breaths to calm himself but it didn’t work, so instead he focused on Mac’s heart beating under his head and the way his thumb rubbed across Jack’s skin. Eventually he got his breathing under control and he got up and located the chair in the corner of the room and positioned it between the door and the jamb so it couldn’t be closed automatically. After that, he dropped to on his knees by Mac’s side again, his hands gently touching Mac’s chest.

The lights snapped on, and they both gasped and squinted against the sudden brightness. When Jack saw the shape Mac was in, he wanted to throw up: a large chunk of Mac’s scalp and hair was missing above his ear, and the area around the wound was blackened with powder burns. Blood stained everything from his face to his skull (Jack could see his _skull_, white bone showing through), his neck and body, but he was _alive_.

The problem was they weren’t the only ones who knew that, and the maniac who drove them to this was no doubt on his way to finish the job. His hands shaking again, Jack reached for the revolver lying nearby, and then he heard it—footsteps, getting very close very fast. The waiter rounded the corner, and Jack didn’t blink before firing the remaining five bullets into his head and chest. The guy dropped to the floor like a sack of rocks, and Jack tossed away the empty revolver and went to the body, shuffling around until he found a gun—his own gun—tucked into the waistband of the waiter’s pants. Why he didn’t have it drawn, Jack had no idea and didn’t care, his only priority was Mac.

Mac, who had managed to sit up carefully and leaned against the nearest wall. He blinked blood from his eyes and rubbed at them to clear his vision before he looked at Jack, expression twisted with pain. “Adrenaline… won’t keep me going for long,” he said, breathing labored. “You might… want to leave me here and go get help.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Jack replied, which was his default setting. “Mac, I can’t leave you alone.” He walked over and crouched next to him, and his brain tried to remind him of the conversation they had before Mac shot himself, but Jack pushed it away. He needed to focus on getting Mac out of the room and getting help, and getting distracted by something that probably wasn’t even real for Mac wouldn’t help.

Mac shut his eyes, his mouth twitching up at the corners fondly. “Okay, then let’s go.” He slung an arm around Jack’s shoulders and they stood as a unit, Mac swaying dangerously with Jack’s grip on him the only thing keeping him upright. “I’m sorry I had to do… that,” he murmured as they stepped around the body of the waiter. “It was the only thing I could think of to get us both out, and you couldn’t know. If your reaction wasn’t real, it wouldn’t have worked.”

Jack tried to focus on his breathing. “Let’s… not talk about this right now, yeah? We need to get you outta here and to the hospital.” From the corner of his eye he could swear he saw Mac flinch, and he couldn’t be sure if it was because of pain or what Jack said, but he didn’t have the energy to think about it. He was a mess, barely holding himself together, and Mac’s safety trumped everything else.

“Okay,” Mac whispered, and fell silent.

They reached the end of the corridor and the beginning of a set of stairs that led up. Luckily it wasn’t too steep, and as long as they were careful they could climb it. Mac didn’t say another word, and if it wasn’t for his labored breathing Jack might think he was dragging around a—nope, not a corpse, not thinking that. They made it up the stairs and to a door that was unlocked, which opened to a larger corridor with multiple doors on either side.

The whole place seemed pretty old and militaristic to Jack’s eyes, and evidently Mac agreed: “I think this is some kind of old National Guard barracks. That’s what the paint colors look like, anyway.”

The first door on their left was open and the room beyond it was some kind of monitoring station—there were computers, as well as screens that showed views of the rooms downstairs along with a chair and a cell phone, so the waiter must’ve been watching them from here. Jack helped settle Mac into the chair in front of the monitors and then he grabbed the phone. Mercifully it had service, so he called Riley. She was worried when Jack told her what happened (he didn’t go into details, just that they were kidnapped and Mac was hurt) and she sent the tac team and an ambulance.

Once he hung up, Jack took in a shaky breath. Now that all they could do was wait, he didn’t have anything to focus on and felt himself falling apart again. He knelt in front of Mac’s chair, resting his crossed arms on his thighs and not caring if it was too close—Mac knew how he felt, so there was no point in hiding it.

“Fuck, _Mac_,” he whimpered, burying his face against his arms, body trembling as the tears started falling again.

Mac sighed, his left hand coming up to touch Jack’s head. His nails scratched lightly through Jack’s buzzed-down hair, and his right hand rested in his lap, also injured from powder burns and blowback from the blank. He didn’t lose any fingers, but the skin on them has been burned away or peeled back. “Shhh, Jack, I’m right here.” He sounded like he might be close to crying himself, but his hand kept moving rhythmically over Jack’s head. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

They sat like that for a while, and eventually Jack managed to calm down. At the same time, he realized how fucking selfishly he was acting. He lifted his head and Mac’s hand slipped from his head to the back of his neck, and he angrily wiped his eyes and cheeks. “Fuck, I’m… I’m so sorry. You’re hurt and in pain and I’m… I should be comforting _you_.”

Mac had the weight of his head leaned back against the chair, the uninjured side pressed against the fabric. That gave Jack a particularly grisly view when Mac looked down at him and smiled faintly… and his hand moved from Jack’s neck to cup his cheek. That simple yet intimate gesture made Jack’s brain flicker back to the conversation they had before Mac pulled the trigger—was there a chance in hell that was real?

“Not sure there’s much you can do for me right now,” Mac admitted, and his voice had this thin quality to it that Jack didn’t like, as if he was barely keeping it together. “This hurts so fucking much I’m surprised I can string a sentence together.”

Jack exhaled shakily and leaned into Mac’s touch. “You’re gonna be fine though, you have to be,” he said, and if he sounded a little desperate then so be it. He also couldn’t help but feel guilty about all of this because after all, Mac hurt himself to keep Jack alive. “God, Mac, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t do that, don’t apologize,” Mac said, his thumb stroking over Jack’s cheekbone. His eyes were slightly unfocused before, but they sharpen up to meet Jack’s gaze. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It was the only way... you shooting yourself for real wasn't an option. I would’ve never forgiven myself if I let that happen.” That big speech seemed to sap Mac’s energy and he slumped a little; much to Jack’s alarm, a single tear fell from one of those too-blue eyes. “I meant what I said back there, Jack. Every word of it.”

Jack’s heart stopped when he heard that, or at least it felt like it. He grabbed the hand Mac had on his face and held it, standing up and using his free hand to wipe the tear off Mac’s cheek, his touch lingering. “Me too, Mac. Me too.”

Before he could say anything more, there was a sound from out in the corridor that had him reaching for his gun—but it was mercifully the Phoenix tac team and a group of paramedics. Things moved quickly after that, and a stretcher was brought in for Mac. Turned out the place they were being held was indeed an abandoned National Guard outpost outside San Bernadino, so it was a short ride to their usual hospital in Los Angeles via helicopter.

~***~

Jack didn’t leave Mac’s side even when he was wheeled into a treatment room at the hospital, his grip on Mac’s good hand probably too tight but at that point neither of them gave a damn. A doctor arrived almost immediately, and the first thing he and a nurse did was concussion protocol; once it was clear Mac didn’t have a brain injury they loaded him up with morphine. His hand went limp in Jack’s, but anytime Jack shifted his grip Mac’s fingers twitched.

“Try and keep him calm,” the doctor advised from behind Harry Potter glasses. “I need to examine his wounds, and it’s going to be uncomfortable even with the painkiller.”

Mac whimpered when the doctor started poking and prodding at his head, but Jack was right there, squeezing his hand and talking to him in a quiet, soothing tone. Mac’s eyes were wide and incredibly vivid, glazed from the drugs, but as long as he looked at Jack he seemed calm, so he stayed in his line of sight.

Eventually Doctor Harry Potter—Jack got introduced to the guy but he couldn’t remember his name—leaned back and declared that Mac was lucky in a sense, because the damage wasn’t bad enough to warrant a skin graft. Everything would heal on its own but he had to staple the skin closed, so he numbed Mac’s head and Jack couldn’t make himself watch the rest, focusing on comforting Mac and not flinching every time the staple gun fired. His head gets cleaned up after that, and Jack could see exactly how bad the burns were before that side of Mac’s head got wrapped up. The doctor moved on to Mac’s right hand, carefully cleaning everything out and telling them that besides the burns his hand is fine. That got wrapped too and then Mac was moved to a private room for observation. He’d fallen asleep at some point, but he hadn’t let go of Jack’s hand.

Jack kept telling himself that Mac was going to be fine, the doc said so, so Jack’s brain had no reason to drift to what-ifs and morbid scenarios… he would live through them in his nightmares anyway. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting in a plastic chair next to Mac’s bed, but suddenly there was a quiet commotion outside and then the whole gang piled into the room.

“Oh my God,” Desi said, over the gasps and wide eyes of everyone else. She came over and hugged Jack before looking down at Mac, brow furrowed with concern. “What the hell happened?”

Haltingly, Jack told the story in more detail than he did on the phone with Riley, including the waiter’s twisted motive. The only thing he left out was the screamed conversation he hand Mac had about their feelings, because that was for them to figure out later.

Or at least that’s what he thought until James frowned deeply, placing a hand on his son’s ankle where it’s covered by blankets. “So you’re telling me this asshole targeted you two because you’re a couple? That was the only reason?”

The others looked disgusted as well, and not at all surprised—holy hell, did Jack miss a memo? What was happening?

“I’m… yeah, he _thought_ we were a couple, that’s my guess,” Jack said slowly, and everyone looked at him with weird expressions. “The note and everything, it all pointed at some kind of pseudo-Christian psychopath…” He trailed off when they all continued to stare. “Why are y’all looking at me like that?”

“Wait, you mean you and Mac aren’t a couple?” Matty asked, sounding confused, a rare thing for her. “I assumed after you came back from the Kovacs mission that you two finally pulled your heads out of your asses.”

Desi flapped her arms a little. “I asked him out while you were gone and he said no! He told me he had feelings for somebody else! I presumed it was you!”

“Uh, guys?” Bozer interjected. “I think Mac’s awake.”

Jack’s head snapped in Mac’s direction, and sure enough he was blinking slowly, eyes glazed and unfocused until they fixed on Jack and he squeezed his hand. “Hey, Mac,” Jack said, his voice softening. “How are you feelin’?”

“Fuzzy,” Mac replied, blinking again. “Think it’s the morphine.” He offered Jack a weak smile before he noticed everyone else and his eyes widened. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to see you,” Matty told him. “Why else would we be here? Just to hang out in the hospital for kicks?”

“But I’m… I’m fine, no need to worry,” Mac said, his words slurring a little.

Jack choked on air. “_Fine_? Mac, you’re about as far from fine as you can get.”

“We heard what happened,” James said, squeezing Mac’s ankle and looking at him worriedly. “You could’ve died, Angus.”

Mac squinted at his father. “I had to do it.” He was full of conviction and drugged to the gills. “Otherwise Jack would’ve shot himself for real, and the world wouldn’t make sense anymore.”

Riley gasped, a hand covering her mouth and horror in her expression.

Desi smacked Jack in the back of the head. “The hell is wrong with you, Dalton? You think anybody wants that?”

Jack hissed in pain. “Hey! If it’d been the only way to save Mac, I would’ve done it no questions asked.” He looked everyone in the eye, but couldn’t linger on Riley, who was about to cry. “I was fully prepared to do it, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to save him.”

“You’re an idiot,” Mac mumbled, his hand twitching in Jack’s again. “Told you it would destroy me.”

Leanna cleared her throat, and as usual she was the voice of reason: “How about we all go get some coffee, give these two time to talk?”

Everyone murmured their agreement. Riley gave Jack a crushing hug around the shoulders before she left, and he whispered an apology in her ear—he knew she understood, but that didn’t mean it didn’t suck. The group shuffled out and Leanna shut the door behind them, and then it was just Mac and Jack again.

“I’m thinking… maybe we agree to disagree?” Mac’s thumb was drawing some kind of pattern against the back of Jack’s hand. “Otherwise we’re gonna argue about who should’ve died today for the rest of our lives, and that seems pretty morbid.”

Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Fine, but can we also agree you’ll never do something crazy like this again?” He knew it was pointless to ask that of Mac, but he tried anyway. “I thought… I thought you were dead. Remember what you said back there? You said I didn’t get to tell you I loved you and then do… that.” They both knew what Jack meant by _that_. “But _you_ did it—you told me you loved me and then you shot yourself. Or at least I thought you did.”

Mac shut his eyes for a moment, brows drawing downward. “C’mere… please?” It would’ve taken a stronger man that Jack to resist that request. He climbed into the bed next to Mac, sliding a careful arm around him. Mac cuddled up to him immediately, resting the good side of his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry I put you through that, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know, baby,” Jack said, his eyes widening when the endearment slipped out, but Mac didn’t react. “And I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just need you to understand that I may… be a little clingy for a while. That almost killed me, Mac—I mean literally. When the lights went off, I just wanted to die. I was thinking of grabbing that damn revolver and following you right away, but I needed to see you and touch you first. One last time.”

Mac tilted his head back so he could look at Jack, and used his bandages fingers to touch Jack’s cheek. They were wrapped individually so he could still kind of use them even if they didn’t bend. “Jack, I… you realize it would’ve been the same for me, right? I don’t… what I said earlier was true. Without you the world doesn’t make sense.” Another slow blink, long lashes casting shadows on the tops of Mac’s cheeks. “We’re both what Desi would call self-sacrificing codependent idiots, but I love you for that. For so many reasons.”

Jack’s heart did something weird in his chest, a jump combined with crazy fluttering. He swallowed hard and tightened his arm around Mac a little. “I love you too. You have no idea how much.”

Slowly, he leaned down and pressed their lips together in a soft kiss, just a feather light touch of lips. Mac kissed back, returning that gentle pressure, and such a simple thing shouldn’t have made Jack feel like fireworks were going off in his brain but it absolutely did. And the strangest thing was… it felt like nothing changed, even though it had. As soon as Jack pulled back, Mac settled back down on his shoulder, his injured hand sliding down to rest on Jack’s thigh.

“I don’t mind clingy, by the way,” Mac told him, suppressing a yawn. “Not to be presumptuous, but you could literally move into my house tomorrow and I’d be fine with it.”

“Don’t tempt me, darlin’,” Jack whispered, and Mac just hummed in response.

After a moment Jack glanced down and realized that Mac was asleep, snuggled into Jack’s side like he belonged there—and as far as Jack was concerned, he did.

~***~

Mac wound up staying in the hospital overnight, and the whole team camped out in his room. Jack was shocked to discover they’d only been missing for a few hours and it had been barely after midnight when he called Riley form the bunker. He was able to change into some fresh clothes that someone gave him after they retrieved the GTO from the restaurant, and Mac got a pair of sweatpants and a hooded sweatshirt to wear once he got discharged.

In the morning, the staff slowly took Mac off his morphine drip and prescribed him some antibiotics and painkillers to take home. The doctor handed Jack the discharge instructions and he read them front-to-back—he was already plotting how to wrestle Mac into a bath instead of a shower, since his burns couldn’t get wet. Bozer and Riley helped Mac into a wheelchair to get him outside, and once Mac was in the passenger’s seat of the GTO they all said their goodbyes.

James waited until Mac was distracted by Matty talking to him through the window to put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Take care of him, okay? And if you guys need anything, call me. I don’t care what time it is.”

Jack stared at him in shock, because his relationship with James was… neutral at best. Until now Jack always had a feeling James didn’t really like him—and to be honest, Jack didn’t care as long as Oversight didn’t try to mess with Mac. But now James was looking at him amicably, obviously worried about his son. “I… yeah, man, of course,” Jack said when he found his voice, and James’s expression turned amused. “I’ve got his back.”

James gave Jack’s shoulder a parting squeeze. “Good. You’ve got as much time off as you need.”

Then everybody was gone and Jack slid behind the wheel of his car in a daze.

Mac shifted in his seat to look at him, an eyebrow raised. There was pain showing around his eyes, but he looked more like himself than he had in the past eighteen hours or so. “You okay, Jack?”

“I always thought your old man hated me,” Jack blurted out as he started the car. “But he was… nice just now. Like… very nice.”

Mac squinted at him, and when Jack started driving with one hand and offered him the other, Mac linked their fingers together. “Why did you think he hated you?” he asked, thumb exploring the ridges of Jack’s knuckles. “He doesn’t, by the way. And evidently he and everybody else thought we were dating before we actually were.”

Jack shrugged as much as he could while driving and holding Mac’s hand. “You know that at first I was angry about everything he’s done to you, so I wasn’t… too nice to him. And I kinda assumed I reminded him of Walsh and that he saw him in me, just like he saw himself in you.” He sighed and took a turn toward Mac’s house. “It’s stupid, I know. But it caught me off guard today.” After a moment he gave Mac’s hand a gentle squeeze. “I can’t believe how blind we’ve been. Couldn’t they have told us?”

It was Mac’s turn to shrug as they rolled up the driveway. “I guess they thought we already knew? I don’t know, man, I’m missing half my head.” It was a joke, albeit a dry one, but the first Mac had made since they were locked in that awful place. He frowned, thinking of something else. “You’re nothing like Walsh—you’d never betray me like that.” Jack let go of his hand to get out of the car and come around to help him, and Mac ushered him over to his uninjured side. “I can’t hear out of my right ear. Temporary according to the doctor, but if you want me to hear you, you need to be over here.”

Jack felt a spasm in his chest at the thought of how much pain Mac had to be in, and while he knew technically it wasn’t his fault it was hard not to blame himself for what happened. He wrapped his arm around Mac to steady him and they walked toward the front door. Some of what he was thinking must’ve showed on his face, because before Mac opened the door he slid out of Jack’s hold and grabbed his hand instead. “You have that look on your face again. The tortured one, like you’re responsible for all the evil in the world. What’s wrong?”

Jack cursed the fact that Mac could read him so well, but he knew he wasn’t getting out of answering. “I just feel so… useless,” he admitted, glancing away from Mac when his eyes widened with surprise. “You got hurt so badly because of me and there was nothing I could’ve done to prevent it except—” He cut off, because neither of them wanted to think about the fatal option. “And that would’ve hurt you too. I’m not used to… to not being able to help, and it sucks.”

“But you are helping,” Mac said, lifting his injured hand to touch Jack’s jaw, bandaged fingers stroking at his stubble. “You got me out of there, didn’t you? And you’ve been with me this whole time. Even though I’m in pain, you make it bearable—whenever I’m with you I don’t think about it.” He smiled. “You’re not useless, Jack, far from it.”

Jack sighed, leaning into Mac’s touch. “I love you,” he said, because now that he knew he could say it, he was going to be that person who reminded their partner constantly.

He unlocked Mac’s door with his key and they went inside. Jack got Mac settled on the couch before he checked the rest of the house to make sure they didn’t have any unexpected guests (it had happened before). Then he sat down next to Mac on his good side, and Mac cuddled right up to Jack again, an arm snaking across his waist. He carefully wrapped an arm around Mac’s shoulders again and Mac sighed happily, burying his face in Jack’s neck. Jack pressed a kiss to Mac’s hair, still not sure he wasn’t dreaming—it sure as hell felt like some of the dreams he’d had.

“I love you too, by the way,” Mac said after a moment, his words slightly muffled, followed by a kiss to Jack’s throat. Then Mac kissed Jack’s jaw, but couldn’t reach further without lifting his head, so he nuzzled at the bone until Jack got the message and leaned down to press their lips together. The angle was awkward but neither of them minded, and it was a sweet kiss, closed-mouthed and chaste, and Mac was the one to break it. He wrinkled his nose and grimaced. “I smell terrible, don’t I? They told me I can’t take a shower… but I bet we could both fit in that fancy jetted tub I never use?”

Jack stilled where he was nuzzling Mac’s cheek, and since his eyes were shut he blinked them open in surprise. “Both… both of us?” he stammered out. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it, but he didn’t figure Mac would want him so close this early in their relationship since he wasn’t exactly a touchy-feely person.

Mac frowned at him adorably (how could somebody frown adorably, that wasn’t fair), getting up off the couch and using his good hand to grab one of Jack’s and pull him to his feet. Without the heavy-duty drugs Mac was a lot more coordinated, if a little off balance thanks to the hearing loss. “Well, yeah? Unless you have a secret hatred for baths I don’t know about?” He tugged and Jack followed him—and while Jack had been in both bathrooms in the house at some point, he never noticed the big Whirlpool tub that took up one corner of the master bathroom. Mac used him for balance and leaned in to turn it on, then let it start filling with warm water while he turned back to give Jack another peck on the jaw. “Besides, I took half a pill before we left the hospital, so there’s a very real chance I could see drowning as a good idea.”

Jack’s eyes widened, and while Mac drowning was not going to happen on his watch, he felt butterflies in his stomach at the feel of Mac’s lips. He kind of wanted to laugh because something so small and innocent shouldn’t have made him feel like he was on fire. Then Mac kissed his cheek and his good hand slid down Jack’s chest, tugging on the hem of his shirt before slipping underneath, fingers brushing his abs. “You’re gonna have to give me a hand here,” Mac teased with a small grin.

One little touch on his bare skin from Mac had Jack officially certain he’d die from spontaneous combustion, his knees like jelly. He was careful not to jostle Mac when he pulled off his own shirt, suppressing a shiver when that prompted Mac to explore more of his skin with his good hand. Not that Jack minded, the opposite in fact, but that shit-eating grin on Mac’s face told Jack everything he needed to know. “You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he muttered, and smiled when Mac laughed, a short, happy sound.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mac’s eyes glinted mischievously as he leaned in to kiss Jack’s neck this time… and he hooked his fingers over the front of Jack’s jeans.

This time Jack couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath and the shiver that ran through him. “Jesus,” he whispered, a little sound grating out of his throat when Mac opened his jeans and slid them down over Jack’s hips. He was suddenly thankful that he took his boots off when he came in, and kicked his pants away as soon as they were low enough. Now he was just in his boxer-briefs and Mac was still fully clothed. “I’m seeing something unfair about this situation, baby.”

“Why don’t you do something about it then?” Mac grinned and took a step back, gesturing at his own body like it was open season.

Jack’s brain wasn’t working anymore—he didn’t know this side of Mac existed and he was in a daze. Swallowing hard, he recovered enough to reach for Mac’s shirt and tugged it up, carefully taking it off. Mac couldn’t shake out his hair like he normally would, so he used his unbandaged hand to brush it away from his face. Despite having lost a large chunk of it to the blank he still had a ridiculous amount of hair, and Jack got weirdly giddy when he realized he knew exactly how soft that hair was.

And Mac smiled at him, encouraging and maybe a little dirty, so Jack slid his fingers under the waistband of Mac’s sweatpants… and discovered he wasn’t wearing underwear. “Oh, sweet mercy.”

“You know,” Mac started conversationally, “when I imagined getting undressed in front of you—and I did imagine that, probably way more than I should’ve—I was in slightly better shape.” He smiled, a little self-consciously, and in that moment it hit Jack that Mac was… nervous?

It was cute, but it wouldn’t do. Jack put his hands on Mac’s waist—respectful, not implying anything—and reeled him in for a kiss. “I’ve imagined this too,” he admitted, because hell, he’s dreamed about getting to touch Mac the way he wanted to for years. “And maybe it didn’t look like this, but who cares? You’re still the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, darlin’. Nothing’s gonna change that.” Mac ducked his head, but Jack could see the blush coloring his cheeks anyway. It made him smile, and he cupped Mac’s face with his hand, thumb rubbing the skin under Mac’s eye. “Ready for that bath now?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Mac said, an uncharacteristic shyness to his voice that tugged at Jack’s heart in the best way.

That shyness vanished in the next instant, however, because Mac’s fingers slid under the waistband of Jack’s underwear and pushed them down, leaving them both naked. Jack took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that this _wasn’t_ sexual, praying his body would listen as they got into the water. It was just warm enough to be comfortable, and Mac sunk to his shoulders immediately, keeping his bandaged hand on the side of the tub. He arranged Jack as he pleased, and soon enough he sat between Jack’s legs, his back against Jack’s chest.

Barely keeping himself together, Jack wrapped an arm around Mac’s waist, pressing a kiss to Mac’s temple. He channeled thoughts of roadkill, dead bodies, his naked grandmother—all the least sexy things he could think of to stop himself from having an inappropriate reaction given their proximity.

Mac tilted his head back against Jack’s shoulder to look at him curiously. “You seem tense. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack replied, but when Mac gave him a pointed look he sighed. “I’m good, baby, I promise. I just…” He trailed off, then rolled his eyes at himself. “Let’s just say that having you so… wet and close to me is kinda driving me crazy. But I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.” Mac managed to draw out one syllable for a mile, a slow grin Jack had never seen before spreading on his face. “So this—” he wriggled against Jack, a full-body movement “—bothers you?”

Jack exhaled harshly when Mac pressed against his cock, which against his best efforts was starting to twitch in interest. He closed his eyes and tried to regain at least some control over his body. “I… I wouldn’t use the word _bother_. Not exactly.”

Mac let out an honest-to-God giggle, kissing Jack’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “What word would you use?” The hand he had in the water skimmed over Jack’s thigh before his fingers slid underneath it, lifting Jack’s leg to adjust the angle… and Jack’s cock slipped between Mac’s ass cheeks. “I mean, there must be a descriptor you can come up with.”

Jack gasped, and there was a part of him that was convinced this couldn’t be real. If he could’ve, he would’ve been grinding against Mac—but he couldn’t, Mac was injured and Jack had to behave, right? Right. “Descriptor, he says. You’re driving me insane, darlin’.”

Mac smiled against Jack’s cheek before his mouth moved lower to nip at his jaw. “You said that already,” he murmured, rocking his hips just a little, so little it might’ve been accidental except for how Jack could feel Mac’s abs tightening under his arm. His tongue flicked out to taste Jack’s skin, rasping over his stubble. “I’ll take it as a compliment, though.”

“Mac, you don’t have to—” Jack started, but he couldn’t help moaning softly when Mac rolled his hips again. His arm tightened around Mac and he buried his face in his neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses until he reached Mac’s shoulder, nipping at his skin. When he bit down harder Mac gasped, arching in Jack’s hold, and that movement brought Jack back to reality. “Baby, seriously, we don’t have to do—”

“What if I want to?” Mac interjected, and then he turned in Jack’s hold, straddling his legs so he was sitting in Jack’s lap. He wrapped his injured arm around Jack’s neck and ground forward, their cocks sliding together. His other hand came out of the water to cup Jack’s cheek and pull him in for a kiss. “Because I do, Jack. Want this, with you.”

He sounded so sure, and Jack was a weak man. Wrapping both his arms around Mac’s middle he pressed their lips together, and this kiss was different from the soft, chaste kisses they had shared before. It was heated and urgent, and it didn’t take long for Mac to slide his tongue into Jack’s mouth. He made a pleased sound in the back of his throat when Jack’s teeth bit playfully at Mac’s lower lip. The hand on Jack’s face slid down his chest and torso slowly, before long fingers wrapped around Jack’s cock.

Jack’s entire body jolted and he groaned, breaking the kiss to mouth at Mac’s neck. When Mac started stroking him lazily, teasingly, Jack groaned again and bit down on the muscle where Mac’s neck met his shoulder. Moving lower, Jack started sucking a bruise below Mac’s collarbone, pressing sloppy kisses all over his skin. The water made great lubrication, but Mac’s hand was still just rough enough that Jack’s hips twitched on each upstroke. And Jack needed to reciprocate, he had to, so he unwrapped one arm from around Mac’s waist to circle a big, calloused hand around Mac’s hard cock. That earned him a throaty, beautiful sound that he wanted to hear again and again.

Mac gasped out his name when Jack started to stroke him, and he kissed his way back to Mac’s lips in time for Mac’s hand to start working him more quickly. Jack couldn’t do much besides whimper into his mouth, Mac’s arm tightening around his neck when Jack started rocking into his grip as much as he could. His hand around Mac’s cock was barely moving, he was so caught up in sensation, but Mac didn’t seem to mind. He watched Jack’s face intently, pupils huge, and Jack shut his own eyes right before he came with a choked-off moan. He tightened his grip around Mac’s cock involuntarily and Mac thrusted up into his fist, following Jack over the edge a moment later. Mac dropped his forehead down to rest against Jack’s shoulder, his breath gusting against Jack’s skin as they both came down from their highs.

Jack let go of Mac’s cock after a moment and used both arms to pull him close, and still out of breath, he turned his head to press a kiss to Mac’s hair, one hand stroking Mac’s back when he felt Mac tremble a little against him. “You okay?” Jack muttered into Mac’s hearing ear.

Mac snuggled further into his embrace like he was glued to Jack’s body. “Mhmm, I’m great.” His lips pressed an absent kiss to Jack’s collarbone. “I know this is probably a very ironic thing to ask considering what we just did… but can you take me to bed?”

Jack chuckled and maneuvered so Mac sat on his own while he got out of the tub and retrieved some towels. Then he helped Mac out of the water and set the tub to drain while he wrapped Mac up in a towel, his hair damp at the ends. They went into the bedroom, and since there was no need to get dressed they didn’t bother, with Jack closing the curtains against the daytime brightness before crawling under the covers with Mac, who wrapped around him like he was a giant teddy bear.

Jack fully expected to wake up from this amazing dream any minute now, but having Mac pressed against him skin-on-skin made it all feel so much more real. Mac had his nose shoved next to Jack’s collarbone and Jack could feel his breathing against his skin. Turning his head a little, he kissed the top of Mac’s head and buried his nose in Mac’s hair—he was sure he’d never been this happy. The only thing that would’ve made it better would’ve been Mac being uninjured, but it was comforting to know that he’d heal eventually.

“How are you feeling?” Jack asked softly, rubbing a hand up and down Mac’s back. “How much pain are you in?”

“It hurts,” Mac admitted, and Jack knew he was probably the only person on the planet to whom Mac would willing say he was in pain, but he’d done it so often in the past twenty-four hours that it was starting to feel normal. “My hand is actually worse than my head, if you can believe it. I think because all the nerves got burned away on my scalp it’s not as painful, but my fingers feel like they’re still on fire.” He hugged Jack tighter and huffed out a laugh. “And here I thought I’d gotten my fill of burning myself when I knocked you out of that coffin.”

Jack shuddered when he remembered the coffin incident, both because he was kind of burning alive and because Mac got hurt because of him. “Yeah, I hope you’ve reached your quota on that.” If he could’ve taken all of Mac’s pain on himself, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat. “I’m really sorry, Mac.”

“I’d do it again,” Mac murmured, his thumb stroking the thin skin over Jack’s ribs. “Either one, the coffin or the gun, I don’t care. You’re worth it.” He yawned, and just like when he frowned it shouldn’t have been adorable but it was. “I’m gonna take a nap now.”

He did exactly that, his breathing evening out into sleep a moment later, like drifting off in Jack’s arms was the easiest thing to do. And Jack’s mind was, to put it simply, blown. They’d shared a bed before now—hell, they even cuddled for warmth that one time when Matty sent them to fucking Siberia, but this is different. Jack was lying in bed with Mac, naked, his arms wrapped around him, and it felt… normal. Smiling, he pressed another kiss to Mac’s hair and after watching him for a while, he decided to stop being creepy and closed his eyes too.

~***~

The next thing Jack knew his eyes snapped back open, and at first he wasn’t sure what woke him. He didn’t have a nightmare, which in and of itself was shocking—but he was also alone in Mac’s bed, and that made him bolt upright to glance around the room, his pulse thudding hard when he realized Mac was gone. He got up, naked and not giving a damn. “Mac, where are you?”

He almost doubled over in relief when Mac said from the bathroom, “In here!”

Jack padded over to the bathroom and nudged the door open... and gasped at what he saw. Mac stood in front of the mirror above the vanity, the dressings peeled away from his head and hand. The entire right side of his head is the angry reds and pinks of burns, uneven and mottled, bisected almost perfectly by the line of staples holding his scalp together. The lack of hair in that area is even more obvious without the bandages, and his right hand looks swollen and painful.

Mac turned around with a smile, but it faded when he took a better look at Jack’s expression. Whatever he saw there made him frown, worry flashing in his eyes. “Jack? What’s wrong?” Jack’s gaze was fixed on Mac’s injuries and he actually took a small step back, his heart clenching. Realization dawned on Mac’s face, and then he sort of crumpled in on himself, turning away from Jack again, his good hand gripping the edge of the countertop. The other one hung limp by his side, and he stared down into the bowl of the sink like it was very interesting. “I’m sorry, I know it looks… bad. I have to leave the burns unwrapped so they can dry out, but I can, um, go outside or something.”

Jack realized his mistake and cursed himself for being an idiot. “Baby, no,” he rushed to say, taking a few steps closer to Mac but not touching him, unsure if Mac wanted it. “It doesn’t bother me, it’s just…” He shrugged helplessly. “It breaks my heart to see you in so much pain. Tears me up inside.”

Mac glanced up and met Jack's eyes in the mirror. He swallowed hard, then turned again and grabbed on to Jack, hugging him tightly. He pressed his forehead against Jack's shoulder, and the angle meant Jack's peripheral vision filled with an up-close look at the damage to Mac's head. If that blank had been any more powerful, or the revolver any closer... "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... you already said you don't have a problem with it. I'm just kind of a mess."

Jack wrapped his arms around Mac, pulling him even closer. “And that’s completely normal. Don’t apologize, Mac. No one’s expecting you to be all chill and cool about it, you’re allowed to be a mess.”

“Thank you, Jack,” Mac said softly, tilting his head back to kiss Jack’s cheek. He hadn’t shaved in well over a day, and his stubble was starting to take over his face. Mac’s good hand came up and framed Jack’s jaw, thumb rubbing over scratchy hair, a little smile on his lips. “I like you with a beard. I mean, I like you all the time, but it looks good on you.”

Jack couldn’t help but smile back, leaning into Mac’s touch. “Yeah?” He leaned in and pressed his cheek to Mac’s, rubbing teasingly. “Some people don’t like it, usually the ones with delicate skin.” Mac just chuckled against his cheek, fingers still brushing against his stubble. And now Jack was cursing himself because he couldn’t stop thinking about rubbing Mac’s skin with his beard in some other, more… sensitive places.

“I’m not delicate,” Mac said, and there was a shift in the atmosphere, subtle but present nonetheless. Evidently Jack wasn’t the only one thinking less than pure thoughts, because Mac’s fingers gripped his chin and turned his face, pressing their mouths together in a kiss.

And once again, this kiss was nothing like the ones they shared at the hospital and then later on the couch. This one was more like the one in the tub, a firm pressure of Mac’s lips on Jack’s, intent clear as Mac slipped his tongue into Jack’s mouth right away. He couldn’t help but make a little sound in the back of his throat, arms tightening around Mac, his hands resting flat on Mac’s back while Mac wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck.

It was also Mac who pulled back first, laughing when Jack chased his mouth. That resulted in another long, searching kiss before Mac broke away. “Maybe… I think going back to bed would be a good idea,” he said, staring at Jack with those beautiful eyes, his good hand bracing the bad one where they were clasped behind Jack’s head. “Especially if we keep kissing like that.”

His heart pounding, Jack took a deep breath before leaning in to kiss him again. At the same time, he took a step backward, pulling Mac with him, slowly backing them in the direction of the bed. Mac went easily, practically glued to Jack’s body, and when the backs of Jack’s knees hit the mattress he sat down, pulling Mac into his lap before lying down on his back with Mac sprawled on top of him. Mac seemed pleased with this development if the way he sucked on Jack’s tongue was any indication, so Jack spread his legs apart so Mac could lie between them, which also happened to line up their cocks.

Jack felt himself getting hard and almost lost his mind when he realized he felt the same thing happening to Mac, and without knowing what he was doing both his hands slid down to Mac’s ass. It was round and firm under his touch and he couldn’t help but squeeze a little, which made Mac groan into his mouth, his good hand moving over Jack’s side until it could grasp his hip. Mac nipped on Jack’s bottom lip before kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek, and then moved lower to his neck. He bit down lightly and sucked a bruise into Jack’s skin and Jack couldn’t help but moan, his fingers digging harder into Mac’s ass.

“Mac,” Jack gasped when Mac moved to bite his collarbone, “you sure you’re up for this?”

“Yeah, Jack.” Mac lifted his head to look at him with lust-dark eyes. He licked his lips and Jack’s gaze followed the movement. “Do you have any idea how much time I’ve spent thinking about this? Dreaming about it? I’ve wanted to be with you for so long.” He used the grip he had on Jack’s hip to roll them, skillfully avoiding putting pressure on the injured side of his head. “Just… go slow, yeah?”

Jack leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Yeah, baby, of course.” He kissed Mac again, harder this time, one of his hands wandering into Mac’s hair, gently tangling his fingers in it. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Mac replied, wrapping his arms around Jack, good fingers trailing over the muscles of his back.

He rested his bad hand against Jack’s shoulder and didn’t resist when Jack slid a hand under his thigh, squeezing lightly, just spread his legs and melted a little underneath him, and that… that _did_ things to Jack. He hooked Mac’s leg over his hip and moved his lips to suck on Mac’s neck, and Mac’s response was to tilt his head back as far as he could with his injury, basically baring his throat. Jack’s breathing hitched against Mac’s skin and he squeezed the muscle of his thigh again as he trailed his lips lower, biting at Mac’s shoulder.

As soon as his teeth put pressure on Mac’s flesh he arched against him, which ground their cocks together perfectly, warmth pooling low in Jack’s gut. He kissed a path back the way he came, licking and nipping at the marks he’d left behind until he reached Mac’s cheek. “What do you want, baby? I wanna make you feel good.”

Mac took in a shuddering breath. “I want you, Jack. But if you want me to be more specific…” He trailed off, and then the little shit _smirked_, just a little. “I want you to fuck me. Please?”

Jack stared at him for a moment before he untangled his fingers from Mac’s hair to brush the backs of them over Mac’s cheekbone. It was a tender gesture strangely at odds with how aroused they both were. “There’s part of me that can’t believe you’re real,” he whispered, emotions getting the better of him. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and this will be a dream… or you’ll be gone.”

The smirk on Mac’s face morphed into a smile that was so soft it fucked Jack up even more. He brought his good hand up from Jack’s back to rest it on the back of his neck, his thumb stroking gently at Jack’s short hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise you, I’m… now that you let me get this close? You’re not getting rid of me.”

“Good,” Jack whispered, his voice shaky. He leaned down to kiss Mac, sweet yet heated at the same time, and then he made an educated guess and opened Mac’s nightstand drawer—sure enough, there were the lube and condoms. He pulled out both and tossed them on the bed before he scooted down lower, between Mac’s legs.

The moment Jack wrapped his hand around the base of Mac’s cock and gave it a teasing lick, Mac let out a sharp moan, his good hand twisting in the bedsheets near his hip. “Oh God, _Jack_.”

Jack was pretty sure his name had never sounded that good before and he didn’t think he’d ever get over Mac moaning like that. He sucked on the head of Mac’s cock before sinking lower and eventually removing his hand so he could take him all in; Mac gasped, his hips twitching, and Jack put his arm over them to keep him pinned to the mattress. Breathing in through his nose, Jack swallowed around Mac’s cock, making him groan as Jack started bobbing his head up and down, loving the feeling of him on his tongue.

Mac kept making those beautiful sounds, one of his legs folding around Jack’s body like he was afraid he would leave. While his mouth was busy, Jack grabbed the lube and slicked up his fingers, making sure the liquid was warm before he pressed a finger against Mac’s entrance. Mac gave a full-body shudder and made a high-pitched noise when that finger slid inside him and Jack swallowed around him at the same time.

“_Jack_,” Mac whimpered when he started moving his finger back and forth, matching it with the bobbing of his head. Mac’s hand went from gripping the bedsheets to curling around the back of Jack’s neck, squeezing involuntarily when Jack swallowed around him again. “Come back up here, babe.”

Jack pulled off Mac’s cock with an obscene sound, crawling back up Mac’s body, a second finger sliding in alongside the first as he leaned in to give Mac a filthy kiss. “Problem, darlin’?” he asked, a knowing grin on his face.

Mac used his grip on Jack’s neck to drag him down for another kiss as Jack scissored his fingers apart. “Bastard.” He let out a long whine when Jack’s fingers found his prostate. Breaking the kiss, Mac let out a strangled sob when Jack’s fingers nudged that same spot again, his hips rolling down into the contact when a third one slipped in too. “Jack, please—oh, _shit_.”

“You said you wanted slow, remember?” Jack teased, curving all three of his fingers in to brush Mac’s prostate once more, nipping at the skin of his neck, unable to suppress a smile when Mac’s fingers turned into claws against the top of his shoulder. He did the same trick with his fingers inside Mac a few more times, Mac’s moans ratcheting higher with each bit of pressure. Doing his best not to let on that all he wanted was to bury himself in that gorgeous tight heat, he added, casual as anything, “I can do this all afternoon if that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

Mac was quiet for a moment, panting underneath Jack, and Jack grinned against his skin when he realized Mac was actually _thinking it through_. It was such a Mac thing to do… and just to see, Jack twisted his fingers a little, and Mac’s breathing hitched in the best way. “Fuck it,” he whispered before thrusting upward, grinding their cocks together, and this time Jack was the one who was groaning, pressing his forehead into Mac’s collarbone. “Jack, I—I need you. Now. Please.”

Jack exhaled shakily. “Okay, okay,” he said, and pulled his fingers out slowly. He reached for the condoms, but Mac’s good hand on his arm stopped him in his tracks.

When he looked at Mac questioningly, he saw nothing but earnestness as Mac said, “We, uh, don’t need those? I had them test me while I was in the hospital and I’m clean. I mean, unless you want one?”

“Just had my physical last month, I’m good,” Jack replied, and wondered idly how the hell Mac managed to get a blood test done without him noticing.

He bypassed the condoms and headed for the lube again, slicking himself up before he crawled back in place, Mac’s leg hooking over his waist in anticipation. Carefully, Jack started pushing inside, looking into Mac’s eyes the whole time and trying not to die at how good he felt around his cock. Mac’s lips parted and his eyes widened as Jack kept pushing in, and he was the most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen. He was breathing heavily and once he was fully inside Jack searched his eyes but thankfully didn’t see any sign of pain. He didn’t move, though, giving Mac all the time he needed to adjust.

After a moment Mac wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. “You can… you can move.”

Jack slid an arm under Mac’s shoulders and put his hand on the back of Mac’s neck, fingers buried in his hair. It was a nice way to hold him, but it also had the practical purpose of keeping Mac’s head steady so the injured side didn’t accidentally make contact with the pillow. His other arm snaked under Mac’s lower back to keep him close, and then Jack pulled back, pausing for a moment before thrusting forward tentatively—not too hard or fast, but it was enough to make Mac gasp. He set an even rhythm, but even that was enough to have Jack stifling whimpers against Mac’s shoulder after the first dozen thrusts because it felt so damn good.

Mac’s arms wrapped around Jack’s back, the fingers of his good hand digging into his skin, and he let out beautiful breathless sounds with every snap of Jack’s hips. While his motions weren’t fast they were still deep, and Mac cried out when Jack’s cock hit his prostate, his entire body jolting in Jack’s hold. Jack forced himself to focus, because now that he’d found Mac’s prostate he was determined to keep his attention there; his thrusts sped up a little and Mac made some little punched-out groaning noises, his grip on Jack tight enough to leave bruises.

“Jack, I’m close,” Mac whimpered, shuddering when Jack’s response to that was to suck a mark into the side of his neck and pick up the pace even more, thrusting in harder. “Jack, _Jack_, oh God.”

“Come on, baby,” Jack growled, burying his face in Mac’s neck and pounding into him, chasing his release as Mac hooked a leg over Jack’s hip and used it as leverage to meet him halfway.

It only took a few of those brutal thrusts for Mac to arch against him, crying out Jack’s name as he came, clenching tightly around Jack’s cock and trembling in his arms. Jack’s vision all but whited out when Mac squeezed him like that, and he kept thrusting until his orgasm hit in him in the back of the head like a brick. He spilled himself inside Mac, hips stuttering for a moment before they stilled and Jack collapsed on top of him.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually he became aware of Mac’s hand slowly stroking his back, his lips pressed against Jack’s temple. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice raspy.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Jack grumbled, smiling a little when Mac laughed hoarsely. He lifted his head enough to press his lips to Mac’s jaw, then his cheek. “I’m amazing, darlin’. Pretty sure I’ve never felt this good in my whole life.” Carefully, he pulled his hand out from underneath Mac’s neck in favor of combing the hair out of his face. “How about you?”

Mac looked up at him and blinked those huge blue eyes. He smiled that one smile that Jack loved more than anything, his sunshine smile—the one that Jack realized with a start Mac only ever smiles at _him_. “I’m perfect,” he replied. “Absolutely perfect.” And then he tilted his head, frowning adorably and eyeing Jack curiously. “What’s with that look?”

“Just thinking about how much of a dumbass I am,” Jack said, hand dropping lower so his thumb could stroke over Mac’s cheekbone. “You’ve been smiling at me like that for years now, and I just realized that’s the only time I see that exact expression—when you’re looking at me.” He dropped a kiss on Mac’s forehead and pulled out, but Mac’s grip on him kept him from moving any further. “I’m not crushing you, right?”

“Not at all. I like the weight of you on me.” The smile stayed on Mac’s face and in his voice, and he tugged Jack down until he was lying on top of him, his head resting on Mac’s shoulder. “I was always afraid you’d figure it out—the smile thing, I mean. I just couldn’t help it sometimes and I got worried you call me out on it.”

“Yeah, well, I was worried you’d catch me checking out your ass from behind my sunglasses and punch me in the face,” Jack admitted, shifting so he could curl his hand around Mac’s hip. “Or that I’d say something that was a little too… affectionate, for being friends, and you’d figure me out.” He kissed Mac’s shoulder absently. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe we should’ve tried talking. You know, before we got put in a situation where we _had_ to.”

“I guess we were both too scared of losing each other,” Mac said softly, his fingers tracing random shapes on Jack’s back. “I know I was. There were moments when I almost told you, but then I’d stop myself because I thought you’d walk away. I was convinced there was no way for you to feel the same, like a hundred percent.” Grinning, he added, “But it feels good to be wrong sometimes.”

“For the record, there’s nothing in the world that could make me walk away from you… but you’re right.” Jack tilted his head back and grinned in return, helpless to do anything but kiss that pretty smile and nuzzle Mac’s cheek afterward. “It _is_ nice to be wrong sometimes.”


End file.
